Wonderland
by Tiquismiquis
Summary: A collection of wintry one-shots about the Shepherds. Chapter one: FrederickxCordelia. Chapter two: StahlxCherche. Chapter Three: Lissa had gone missing and Lon'qu does some panicking.
1. Chocolate

_Author's Note: So the mods for the RP group I'm in decided to have a special event through December where all the Shepherds are spending the holidays in a ski-resort-esque cabin, and basically set us loose to start wrecking havoc. It gave me a ton of prompt ideas for a ton of characters that probably won't be RP'd out (especially since I only play one of the Shepherds, hehe), but since I can't draw or anything, I'm going to get them all out in oneshots instead._

* * *

**Chapter One: Chocolate**

It was Sumia's fault that Cordelia had woken up, but her own fault entirely that she couldn't get back to sleep.

The room she was sharing with Sumia in their cabin was snug and silent, muffled by the snow falling gently outside, and it felt private enough to Cordelia to curl under her blankets and slip into an equally heated dream of—of him. But a massive thud woke her from it, and she shot upright to find Sumia on the floor, holding her knee and whispering,

"So clumsy!"

She must have fallen from the top bunk. Cordelia fought to calm her heartbeat and brush away the lingering touch of Chrom's fingertips.

"Sumia? What are you doing? Are you all right?"

"Yes, well—I had a bad dream, and I thought—I'll be—I'll be right back. I'm so sorry to wake you, Cordelia."

Her heart dropped as Sumia quietly shut the door behind her, despite her almost tripping over the corner of it as she pulled it open. It wasn't a secret where she was going. And although Cordelia flopped back to her pillow and remembered the snow and tried to lose herself back in the same dream, it was no use. It hurt too much to even pretend with the top bunk's emptiness bearing down on her.

She got out of bed and padded to the living room in the thick socks she always wore to sleep, folding her arms to keep her nightgown snug around her middle. It was a modest thing; not what she usually wore to bed to make herself feel pretty. But they were all living together in that cabin for a long weekend—a company vacation, Robin had joked—and she didn't want any of the men to accidentally catch her in those pyjamas. At least, not any of them but Chrom. Besides, this nightgown was much warmer.

The fire in the hearth was only embers, now. She spent a few minutes in the kitchen putting the kettle on, hoping hot chocolate would make her feel better, and then let the shadows and the couch cushions swallow her and her mug, so she could just sip and watch the glowing of the coals fade away. It seemed unfair that Chrom's room was so available, that night—he hadn't a roommate. He had chosen Frederick but the knight had declined, saying he got restless, bunking with Stahl instead because Stahl was a much heavier sleeper. Sumia would probably want nothing more than to be held, but she _could_ have anything, if she chose. Cordelia could have another cup of hot chocolate, perhaps, at most.

Why did she have to love him so uncontrollably. Why couldn't she love him measurably, in a way she could put into words, in a way that let her sleep at night. She was staring at the bottom of her mug, soon, and still didn't have an answer. The silence of the living room was so loud that it blanketed her thoughts. It was so loud that when a soft voice spoke, it didn't startle her:

"Cordelia? What are you doing awake, this late?"

It was easy to recognize Frederick in the doorway just by his silhouette. He was the only member of the army who looked just as tall without his armour on.

"I can't sleep," she admitted, and shifted to see him better as he walked a little closer. "I could ask you the same question."

"For the same response."

He was still dressed, she realized as he came into the low light, tie and everything. "Did you go to bed at all?"

"I at least considered it. That's closer than I get, some nights. Are you going to remain here, a while? Shall I build up the fire for you?"

"Please," she said, realizing for the first time that it was growing colder as the light left. He was on a knee right away, and worked with the poker and the stack of firewood near the hearth until it was bright and warm again. Bright and warm enough to emphasize the dark circles under his eyes and the tenseness of his jaw.

"Are you all right?" she asked when he stood. "Why can't you sleep?"

"I've just never been able to, much. I lie down and my mind starts to race until I get back up."

"There's enough hot water left for another cup of hot chocolate," she offered as she showed him her mug. A thought struck her then, though—that he might not want to stay out there with her. He might want to pace himself away. "If you want, I mean."

"That would be nice. Thank you."

He took her cup with him, when he went (she assumed to wash it, since he could never leave things for even five minutes), but he was gone longer than she thought, and when he returned, he had a mug for himself and had refilled hers. As he sat down beside her, at a respectful distance but still closer than she'd expected, she couldn't help but joke,

"Look at us, in the wee hours of the morning, drinking hot chocolate together. It's the perfect moment to have that conversation we were supposed to have about our love troubles."

His jaw twitched again, but he gave an amused snort. "Perhaps. Especially if that's the reason you're awake."

"It is," she said softly. "Sumia left and didn't come back."

"What does Sumia have to do with…?" He trailed off to think for a moment. "I see. It must have been her, then. Chrom prefers to keep his bedroom door cracked, but when I passed by to check on him, it was shut. I thought that unusual."

"She's been running off for a couple of weeks, now. I think they must be quite in love." She struggled to keep her voice even and tightened her grip on her mug.

"So it's Chrom, then."

"It is."

"I would not have guessed."

"I had to hide it. I didn't want Sumia to be upset. And I love him so much that it's…too much. It hurts. I want it to stop."

She also wanted to cry. She'd never admitted her love to anyone, before. Maybe Frederick would reprimand her for stepping out of line about their lord. She took a quick gulp of hot chocolate, burned her tongue, and forced the conversation back onto him before he could:

"What about you, then? I've told you my problem; it's only fair that you tell me yours."

"My dear," he said with a very tired smile, "there's nothing new to tell. We've the exact same troubles."

_Sumia_ was her first thought, but that wasn't right. She had been clever enough to pick up on why Frederick clasped his hands behind his back, or see the glances he shot sideway through his bangs. He wouldn't have to restrain himself for Sumia.

"That's why you didn't share his room," she deducted.

The fire showed the new flush on his face. "It wouldn't have been right. I was his automatic choice because I am his oldest friend, but if he could see what thoughts his choice gave me, he would quickly change his mind."

There was such self-loathing in his voice that Cordelia scooted to fill the small space between them and snuggled up against his side. "I can't blame you. Hasn't he the nicest smile in the world?"

Frederick had a rather nice smile, too, she realized as it spread across his face. "He does. It makes you feel loved."

"And he has incredible hair."

"And such eyes."

"And his _voice_, Frederick."

Frederick's own voice sighed against her hair. Deciding it was high time the two of them unwound, she reached up to tug his tie loose, and then untie the knot entirely, and then undo the first button of his shirt. He let her.

"Is it easier to breathe, now?"

"It is." He hesitated, put his arm around her, hesitated again, and whispered, "It's nice that we aren't alone, Cordelia."

"Yes," she whispered back. "I feel a little better. And a little sleepier."

Their conversation murmured on until their hot chocolate was gone, about ties and snowstorms and how Cordelia's hair was just as soft as Chrom's looked, and then her head was on his chest and she could smell the laundry soap on his shirt and his cheek was on her hair where his breath had been and the fire was dying and she simply didn't care because she fell into a sleep that was dreamless.

xXx

"Careful," said Chrom as he followed Sumia out into the hall the next morning. He put a hand on the small of her back since her socks and the waxed wooden floors were _not_ going to be a good combination. "Don't slip. You're still a little shaky."

"It was a truly awful dream," she insisted, and he frowned at the memory: her limping into his bed, nearly in tears, insisting she needed to make sure he was alive. He'd thought a good night's sleep in his arms might have made if all go away, but it seemed they'd need some early morning hot chocolate, too.

It was just after dawn. None of the other Shepherds were awake, as far as he could tell, and the cabin was cold. The fire must have died hours ago. That was odd. Frederick _always_ had a fire going. He passed Sumia so he could walk through the living room and get to the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway.

Frederick was sprawled over the arm of the couch in a manner most unlike him, tie undone, fast asleep, one arm around Sumia's friend Cordelia. Chrom heard Sumia gasp a little, behind him.

"I never would have guessed!"

"Let's not wake them," he said. "I've never seen him look so at ease, not even in his sleep."

"And Cordelia would be so embarrassed for anyone to find her before she's all dressed and ready for the day."

"I'll get you your hot chocolate; you should go back and make sure nobody else comes out here to disturb them."

"Right, Captain."

"Sumia." He laughed a little as he pulled her close to kiss her temple. "You don't have to call me that, anymore."

She giggled a little as she scurried away, which amused him—but not as much as the sight of Frederick, passed out on the couch in his clothes.

"So _that's_ why you wanted to bunk with Stahl," he whispered with a grin. "You sly thing. He never would've heard you sneak out here in a million years."

Quite pleased with his detective skills, Chrom snuck into the kitchen to make enough hot chocolate for three Sumias, a Frederick, a Cordelia, and then an entire army. Why not? Things felt a little lighter, that morning, for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.

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_Author's Note: Other chapters will be Firewood (Cherche and Stahl if ya know what I mean), Sledding (Lissa and Lon'qu), Snowmen (Tharja and Robin), and Santa Gaius deciding the second gen missed out on too many holidays in their young lives. I might get more ideas as I go along, but so far these five look like it. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!_


	2. Firewood

_Author's note: if you haven't read Stahl's and Cherche's supports, she tells him that asking a woman to gather firewood with you is a romantic gesture where she comes from. _

**2**. **Firewood**

"Stahl. Firewood."

"Yes, sir," Stahl managed, feeling a little guilty. It was Frederick's turn to cook, and Stahl originally went into the kitchen attempting to help, but had been caught with his fingers in the bowl of dough too many times. (It was going to be a bunch of fantastic cookies later on, but dough had to be appreciated too, didn't it?) "Sorry, sir. I'll do that instead."

"You'd better hurry. It will be dark soon."

"But who will help you with dinner?" Stahl looked longingly behind him as he passed the counter island, toward the door. "And dessert?"

A feminine hum was his only answer as Cordelia brushed by to take his place, touching Frederick's back for just a second to announce her presence. Stahl sighed and left. Arguing with either of those two was useless.

Firewood it was, then, but he could only carry so much alone. He scanned the living room for accomplices, unable to find Kellam anywhere and sure Sully had already gone off to do her stretches for the night.

But Cherche was on the couch, mending something or other with a needle. She caught his eye, smiled, and dropped her attention back to her hands again. He couldn't help but smile back as he walked to her.

"I was just going out to collect some firewood," he said as he came, "if you feel like coming along."

"Oh _my_." Her smile was sly but she didn't look back up at him.

"Is that a no, then?"

"I suppose, since we are in Ylisse, it can't hurt."

His smile widened to a grin as she folded her needlework and set it aside. He pulled her cloak off the back of the couch and settled it around her shoulders, catching a faint whiff of whatever perfume she sprayed it with. It made him want to drop his head to her shoulder and nuzzle her neck, but he refrained. He hadn't quite gotten around to telling her that he had fallen in love with her, yet. A moment had to come along eventually, right? It would all just fall into place, right?

Right?

"Will you tell me more about Valm?" he asked as she followed him out the front door and into the snow, and she only laughed a little as they made their way into the pines surrounding the cabin.

"I don't know how much more I could tell you; you're always asking. Why this fascination with my homeland, Stahl?"

"It's just interesting, to me." It was only half of the truth, but he couldn't very well tell her that he wanted to follow her back to Valm after the war if he hadn't even confessed his love yet. "Even little gestures can mean such different things to you and I, and most of the time, I like yours better. My own culture seems a little boring, sometimes, because I've been around it my entire life."

"I'm never bored with you around, Stahl."

"That's kind of you to say."

He smiled when he met her eyes, but she wore a look that was decidedly more sly.

"Stahl. Why Valm? Why not cling to the culture of Regna Ferox, or Plegia?"

"It just isn't quite as enticing," he said, a little nervously. She was looking at him like Minerva occasionally looked at her prey before she struck.

"Why is that?"

"Maybe there's nothing for me in any of those places."

"But there is in Valm?" she challenged.

"Rosanne," he said, very softly, and just like that, the sharp look was gone from her eyes.

"You can't be serious."

"I am actually very serious." They'd made it to the stack of firewood by then; Stahl pulled off the snowy tarp and began to gather wood into his arms.

"This is your home. Here."

"Maybe I'd like to make my home somewhere else."

He realized this was a poor time to do chores after all, and dumped his armful to the ground for just a moment to close the space between him and Cherche. Now or never.

"Cherche, I'd like to return with you and help you rebuild."

"Does this mean something different in Ylisse than it does in Valm?" she asked. "I am beginning to think you do not know what you are doing."

"I do," he told her seriously. "I'm collecting firewood with you." _Igniting the spark of passion_, she'd told him. "I mean, hopefully. Maybe I'm not doing it right."

Or maybe _he_ wasn't right. Too boring, too Ylissean, too moderate in everything. The average. The median. Never anything special. Someone remarkable like Cherche, who could slay a man on wyvernback with her own back bare and then wash her bloody hands and use them to embroider a handkerchief deserved someone equally remarkable.

His thoughts were cut off when she pressed him back, and his spine pushed against a tree trunk as her lips met his. They were warm and so were her hands when she grabbed his.

"What did that mean?" he whispered as she pulled away, maybe a little starry-eyed. But she only smiled.

"I believe that is the same in both our cultures."

"Are you sure it's all right, Cherche? I mean, I was just thinking, and _have_ been thinking…I'm not elegant like your Lord Virion or tall like Frederick or strong like Vaike. I think you deserve somebody exceptional."

"I am perfectly capable of deciding whom I deserve, thank you," she told him. "I find you just right—not too much or too little of anything. And I would be very happy if you returned to Rosanne with me."

He grinned and kissed her again, losing himself in her taste and her warmth and that soft scent from her cloak, but she was the one to pull away again, after who knew how many minutes had slipped away.

"Night has fallen, Stahl. I should get back, before Minerva worries."

"Right," he said, a little startled to see that it was in fact already dark. They were on their way back to the cabin at once, stopping only for an apology and a quick kiss to her hand—at first. But then she stopped him to kiss his lips again, and then he stopped her to kiss her ear, and then she stopped him to kiss his neck, and then he pressed her to the nearest tree and—

A roar split the air, making Cherche slip from his arms so fast that his face almost smashed into the trunk.

"Ah, I've alarmed her!" she said, and Stahl ran with her from the treeline. She went straight off to where Minerva was tethered and he entered the cabin, still grinning, eager for the cookies that must now certainly be coming out of the oven.

Most of the Shepherds were eating them at that moment, sitting in the living room around the fire, and they looked up as he approached. Frederick, from his spot in the kitchen, looked hardest of all.

"Stahl, you've missed dinner. We were just about to go looking for you. And—weren't you getting firewood? Where is all the firewood? We just used the last log."

For a long moment, Stahl wasn't sure what to say. He stared at the group before him like a cornered deer, turned on his heel, and sprinted back into the forest to grab his original armful before Cherche returned.

"Save me some cookies!" he cried over his shoulder as he left, and a few voices—he distinctly heard Lissa's and Sully's—sweetly cried back,

"No!"

That was all right, he consoled himself as he reached the pile of wood. He'd make a few trips, the whole cabin would warm up, and he'd have Cherche at his side to hopefully make him a new dinner with new cookies. She was a great cook. And he'd help—he wouldn't even sneak the batter, this time.

Well, maybe he might. That was what had landed him in this pleasant situation in the first place, after all.

_Author's_ _Note: Lissa_ _and_ _Lon'qu_ _are next. Thanks for reading_!


	3. Sledding

_Author's Note: For my dearest Roe._

**Chapter Three: Sledding**

The sun was setting and Lon'qu was beside himself.

How many bones of his Chrom and Frederick would snap was the least of his concerns at the moment. He would welcome the pain. He'd ask Lissa's brother to let his hands close around his throat and finish the job that should have ended in Chon'sin all those years ago.

Just a girl, he'd thought, when he'd been appointed her guard. Just a thin girl with yellow hair that he could turn upside down and use as a feather-duster. If he'd ever shared the idea with her, she would have laughed. At first even her laugh had startled him, so loud and full and unabashed, but soon enough he had calmed to hear it. Even the black, oily dragon of guilt that had been coiled around his heart for so long paused in its squeezing when that laugh sounded. Lon'qu already missed it, and she'd only been gone for a handful of hours. Just a girl, indeed! The moment he thought he had a handle on her, she ran off without him and got herself—

He couldn't force himself to finish that sentence and instead slid in another few feet of snow, pushing himself further down the mountain. He had only covered a little ground, and only had a half-hour of daylight left. Was it possible to fling the blame to Frederick? It was the knight who had forbidden Lissa to go sledding and caused that deep pout of hers, insisting she would sled right into one of the many thick pine trees and knock herself out. And Chrom agreed with Frederick about his sister, as always. And Lon'qu agreed with Chrom about the princess, as always.

"Even _you_ won't let me have any fun, Lon'qu?" she'd said when the other two men were gone. Could he not have avoided this? Suggested he go with her, if she was so determined? But fear froze his lips more firmly than the cold, and in the end he could bring himself to say nothing.

So it was his fault. No matter how he tried to twist it, it was his fault. Lissa had gotten it into her ridiculous golden duster-head that she was going sledding regardless, and had somehow slipped out from under his watch. Supper had already finished. She should have been back hours ago, and he had only just noticed.

As a swordsman, Lon'qu had long ago learned to trust instinct. It was not magic or superstition, as some insisted, but the body noticing small details that the eye was not aware of. Intuition was to be listened to very keenly—like when the opponent in the royal blue mask before you made your lips curl and the hair on your neck raise, or when your Khan's rage toward another Khan could be relaxed over, for their agitation was a wish to bed them instead of to war with them (both easily mistaken desires, in Regna Ferox). This time, as he sprinted between trees and over snow-strewn rocks so fast he almost pitched forward, he felt it right in his gut, deep and pulsing. Something was wrong.

A long slash in the snow caught his eye, and he changed course so fast that he slipped and fell onto an elbow. The drifts cushioned him, and without losing any momentum he pushed himself up and kept running. What could make such a long, smooth track but a sled? Or at least, the shield Lissa was surely using as one?

He knew because he spotted it, gleaming bright red in the last rays of the sun. It was leaning haphazardly against a tree, rocking against the wind. Lon'qu came to a stop, spraying snow, whipping his head around to spot its rider. She couldn't have flown too far.

She was surprisingly far, though, slumped just as he'd suspected, her tiny body crushing a patch of brush. Her cloak had slipped off and there was snow on her shoulders and in her hair. She wasn't moving.

_Lissa_—the word caught in his throat, but by the time he was on his knees beside her he was screaming it. "Lissa! _Lissa_!"

She didn't stir. It was only after he had checked her pulse and found it even and breathed out his terror in a long, slow stream that he realized he had touched her for the first time. Next he was shaking her shoulder and willing her to wake, since she was alive. She didn't.

"Stupid girl!" he growled as he threw off his cloak and then his coat and then his shirt, draping them all over her and then curling up around her. The snow stung his bare skin, and whatever brush she'd fallen into was full of gods-damned thorns, but he refused to budge. He couldn't move her unless he knew whether she'd hurt her neck or spine, in case he made anything worse. And who knew how long she'd been lying there? So all he could do was keep her as warm as possible, especially as night was falling, until she woke up and could tell him how hurt she was.

If she woke up.

Snow wouldn't kill him, he told himself as he pushed his body against hers, already seeking the heat. Not after all those Feroxi winters. Of course, he'd never tried it shirtless, but Basilio never complained. Although Basilio was always fighting, never just lying there.

His adrenaline slowly wore off, and as it did, the shuddering came. It wasn't from the snow, not yet. She was just so soft and fragile in his arms, and he could feel his failure pulsing through him with every heartbeat. Lissa was hurt because he let her slip by. This would be another casualty to add to his list. But she needed his warmth, so despite his terror, he refused to let go of her. Not even when he broke out into a nervous sweat. And when the true horror hit him—of their proximity, of her impending death, of the guilt he would have to endure for the rest of his life—he unlinked his fingers only for one quick second to roll over and lose his last meal in the snow before rolling back and holding her again.

It had been dark for some time before she finally stirred, and by then the snow had him shivering almost too hard to speak.

"Your neck," he managed through gritted teeth, sucking in the first clean breath he'd had that afternoon. "Move it."

"Hm?" she mumbled.

"_Move your neck._"

She craned it to see him, but probably more out of confusion than comprehension of the order. "Lon'qu?"

"Now your spine."

"What's happening?"

"_Move_."

She wriggled a little, tried to sit up, and fell back with a weak cry. "Dizzy."

But unharmed where it countered. Lon'qu got to his knees, scooped her right up in the cocoon of his clothes, and began carrying her up the mountain and back to the cabin. He tightened his fingers like vices around her shoulders and under her knees so that he wouldn't drop her through his shaking.

"Lon'qu?" she asked again, and he fought back a scream as she traced his bare chest with one of her hands. "What are you doing? It's freezing."

"Stupid girl!" he snapped to keep that scream down. "Save your strength!"

"What happened?"

"Your own damn foolishness!"

She was very quiet after that—too quiet, and his footsteps jolting them up the craggy slope wasn't helping him feel her breathing.

"Lissa, talk," he demanded. "Please talk. Don't stop."

With her concussion, she doubtlessly found that easy, and contentedly babbled about snow and Frederick's shining shield and the smell of Lon'qu's coat—"like grass and _you_, and I love it." By the time he finally made it into the soft warm glow of the front door, he'd warmed some from the walk and was less afraid of panicking and dropping her. He could even feel her hair brushing against his shoulder and the side of his neck, from where she was resting her head.

"You're all right now," he promised in a whisper to quiet her as he nudged the door open. "You're just fine."

Most of the Shepherds were gathered around the fire, playing some ridiculous card game that Robin had made up some time ago.

"Marth, I chose you! Use Falchion!" Chrom threw a card onto the carpet.

"The Vaike isn't losing to your granddaddy any more than he loses to you! Go, Eirika!"

Everyone paused and stared as Lon'qu came in. He was sure he looked positively mad, scratched and shirtless and carrying the dizzy-eyed princess like a half-emerged moth in his cloak.

"Clear a space," he snapped in the direction of the couch, and the giggling he heard ceased, and Cherche's hands dropped from Stahl's lips as they both shot up to give him room.

"What have you done?"

He didn't even have to look to know it was Frederick who spoke, and for a moment he ignored him to lay Lissa down gently. Her eyes were huge in her face.

"I was not vigilant enough," he finally answered.

"It's my fault," Lissa insisted before Frederick could retort. "Please, don't be mad at Lon'qu. I went out sledding like you told me not to. He saved my life."

"Lissa," said Chrom as he stood from his spot on the rug. Vaike peeked at his hand of cards but the gesture was ignored. Even Lissa was immediately cowed by the fierce reprimand in that one, quiet word.

Most of the Shepherds immediately found excuses to be elsewhere. Stahl and Cherche went to go make more cookies and Gaius stole after them, Sully went to check on the horses, Sumia "forgot" a book back in her room, Vaike went to "consult Robin elsewhere" about his next move. Frederick looked at Chrom for a long while, big hands awkward at his sides, until Cordelia slipped her own hand into one and pulled him away. They both looked back over their shoulders, but eventually rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Lissa said quietly. "I just got so tired of being told I wasn't capable of doing anything. Not even sledding, like a little kid. I guess I'm really not."

"You really think I need something else to worry about?" Chrom asked as he dropped to the couch beside her and pushed back her hair. What he found made him wince. "Gods, what a bump. Does your head hurt?"

"A lot."

"Good. You deserve it. We'll have Maribelle take a look in a minute." He kissed the top of her head and she frowned. When he was standing again, he offered a hand to Lon'qu.

"I thank you for finding her. I don't know what we would have done, if you hadn't."

"I could never fail her." His words came out too soft. "She will never leave my sight again."

He was too far gone. He would die for her, his foolish charge with her feather-duster hair, the foreign princess, so small and soft. He was utterly hers. He kept his eyes on the ground to avoid Chrom's, sure the Exalt would have caught on by now, but instead of any disapproval or even recognition, he just felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

"We're lucky to have such loyal men!" Chrom said jovially. "Now, where did Frederick run off to? That was quite the strange look on his face. You've worried him sick, Lissa."

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Lissa mercifully stared after him with a raised eyebrow instead of at Lon'qu.

"My brother," she said finally, "is an idiot."

He shifted uncomfortably. Frederick's feelings were a safe topic. His were not. He had the sinking feeling she was referring to them both.

"I'm sure Chrom will tend to you from here," he said. "I would like to go warm up."

"Oh! Gods, I didn't even think—you were out in the snow that whole time—here!"

She spotted the blanket over the edge of the couch and grabbed it to hand it to him; he took it to spread over her. She might be alive, but she could still easily catch cold from the day's adventure. Scowling, she dug his shirt out from her nest and held it out.

"At least take this."

He did, wordlessly, and pulled it on. "Do you still require my coat?"

"Can I hold on to it?" she asked, oddly meek. "Just until my head stops hurting? I know I've caused you a lot of trouble, and I'll do my best to stay away from now on. I'll ask Chrom first thing tomorrow to make somebody else my guard. But I'll really miss you. I'll miss you so much. I just want to memorize what this coat feels like."

"You are as foolish as your brother," he whispered. She flushed furiously and flung the coat at him, but he spread it back over her with the blanket, glancing up to make sure they were truly alone.

"Lissa," he said while he was bent over her, "do you really think I _want_ to leave your side?"

"I would, if I were you. I'm useless."

"No. We don't protect you because you're useless. We protect you because your use is too great. You're very precious."

"So you're not mad?"

"Furious."

She buried her head under the blanket and he tugged it down. Sweet thing. Sweet, ridiculous thing. Only she could make him shake with cold, throw up in a panic, and then smile afterward. She smiled back. Slowly, he reached out and traced the shape of her cheek with one trembling finger. Her smile widened and she shut her eyes, but didn't lean any closer. He hoped she felt his silent gratitude.

"_Oh,_" Chrom's voice said suddenly, and Lon'qu jerked back to find him standing in the kitchen doorway. "_That's_ what you meant."

He didn't look pleased. Lon'qu wasn't sure what to say. Lissa clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Milord," came Frederick's voice crossly, "kindly be less oblivious in _here_, where you can keep Stahl from eating all the cookie dough."

Chrom glowered a little longer and then ducked away again. Lon'qu figured it was a good time to leave for his room and bar the door. And he did, but Lissa was still smiling when he left, and his own lingered.


End file.
